


Smoke and Mirrors

by FluffyGlitterPantsDragon



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Clothed Sex, Lucifer isn't a therapist, M/M, Pansexual Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Trans Issues, Trans Male Character, Trigger Warnings, but he tries sometimes, self-hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 22:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16773949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyGlitterPantsDragon/pseuds/FluffyGlitterPantsDragon
Summary: Matt and his friends are out for a celebratory drink. He meets the Devil.





	Smoke and Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to take care with the subject matter, I hope you enjoy the fic. Thanks as always to Just_Mad_Enough for the beta reading!

“Hello there. Aren't _you_ a handsome fellow?” The Devil’s eyes danced, looking me over. His accented voice wound around my ears like velvet on silk. As dark and deep as I wished mine could be.

I froze over my drink. He isn't supposed to be interested in someone like me. He likes _beautiful_ people. Word got around that he took anyone upstairs, but all I ever heard of were good-looking men and women. Not that I could blame him for being picky, but I was neither of those things.

A semi-coherent response stuck in my throat and I couldn't spit it out into the light of day. It wasn't the eyes alone, staring at me like a spotlight on a rat, but his overwhelming and unexpected _presence_ entering my space unannounced.

It shouldn't be that strange that he's coming to me to chat. He’s the Devil and I’m an abomination. I swallowed and looked down at my hands, counting to ten.

The owner of the club stood at the bar, patiently waiting for a reply, his head just slightly cocked to one side. His expression shifted to slightly concerned when I glanced up again. “Am I unwelcome? I'll make my exit if you wish. Please enjoy yourself and the next drink is on me.” He signaled the bartender, who nodded. He turned to go, true to his word.

 _What's the worst - yeah, no._ I knew better than that.

In spite of years of built-up instincts on the backs of physical and mental scars, I stopped him. “Wait up,” I croaked, my voice lighter than I wanted. It always is. Regardless, he stopped.

He smiled and the warmth touched his expressive eyes. He politely ignored the hitch in my voice or failed to notice it.

He had been running LUX for five years, according to several framed newspaper articles around the front door. He had already seen it all. The fact that he was polite about it was welcome at least. A patron is a patron, at least here. He offered his hand. He wore a single ring, black and silver, glinting. “The drink is still on me. Name's Lucifer. May I ask yours?”

His inviting smile dazzled me, I won't lie. A traitorous urge to _like_ him welled up from somewhere in my chest, without my brain’s input on the matter. I had seen him, a few times, but he never came by before - unsurprisingly. My friends who went out more often than I knew of him, knew LUX as a safe place to be out of the range of ‘normal’ and have a drink. Apparently LUX is where _anything_ goes, as long as everyone involved is consenting. The place had a reputation, a good one. This was my fourth or fifth time here and I felt good enough to actually sit at the bar and have a drink alone while they danced. I had relaxed for the first time in _years._ No one so much as looked at me sideways. It was hard to get used to.

I tried to not sound nervous, but I had a knot in my throat that felt like a cannonball, hard and immobile and it would drown me in the sea. Somehow a word came out around it. “Matt.”

“Matt, hello darling. Looking for someone? Out celebrating?”

He didn’t ask my last name. Maybe he was used to not getting one. He didn’t offer his when he introduced himself, but everyone knew it. _The Devil needs no introduction._

The bartender replaced my empty glass with a fresh gin and tonic. I collected just enough wits back together to drop a bill in the tip jar.

I am celebrating but it was bittersweet. It had been a year since starting my hormone therapy. My friends didn't know why that's why we went out, since I don't talk about it much. With them _o_ _r_ with strangers. Still, when the owner of the club takes a polite interest, it's nice. He even called me ‘fellow’. I admit, it boosted my ego a little. Maybe more than a little.

I tried to smile back a little. I said, “yeah, but it's a long story and I'm sure you have better things to do. Thanks for the drink, they're good.”

Lucifer had a look in his eyes. “You sure I can't help you find company tonight? There must be someone here you have an eye on? Perhaps myself?” he even gestured like he meant it.

I jumped. I know I did. The response came unbidden, rehearsed and spilled out of my mouth like acidic vomit. “I'm not what you're looking for.”

He slipped closer, his smile stayed unflinching, if a bit dimmer. “Now, I'm sure that isn't true. The rumors about me, on the other hand? Very much so. Most of them anyway.” He chuckled to himself, but it somehow didn’t come off cheesy. Well, maybe a little. Maybe he found the rumors charming, but I didn’t, or at least not the way they’d been phrased to me.

I swirled my drink nervously. “The rumors that you'll sleep with _anything?_ ” _Yeah, I have a hard enough time without being someone's fetish_ _on top of everything else_. I felt my jaw clench. I couodn’t help it. I didn’t feel the need to make myself relax, eyeing him distastefully.

I didn't think I said the fetish part aloud but his eyes raked over me like I did just that. I checked my memory but came up short.

Lucifer gazed into the crowd a moment, perhaps even looking a little hurt. “I’m sorry if I gave the wrong impression, or if you heard it said that way. I do have a well-rounded sexual appetite. I am a creature of willing pleasures, of the flesh and mind. I sleep with whom I choose. The choice, however, must be mutual. That’s non-negotiable.”

“Looks like I'm out then.” Choice or not, I don't drop to my knees for just anyone, even when they look like him.

“I'm sorry to hear that. Would you be interested in keeping a lonely club owner company? Just to chat?”

Inwardly I rolled my eyes. Dude was one of _those_ . Well-meaning but clueless people who think they can get half a dozen words out of you and feel better about themselves for it, for _‘helping’_. Fine, I can deal with those too. Honestly anyone not outright hostile was someone I could probably talk to. I’d say it was better than drinking alone, but that wasn’t always true either.

I found my voice and tried to keep it the way I wanted it, deeper, without sounding ridiculous. “What you want to chat about? Can I ask about Hell?”

“Dear sir, ask anything you want. I'm an open book.” He leaned against the end of the bar, easy as you please, in his designer three-piece suit. He did cut a nice figure. “But perhaps you can tell me what we're drinking to, first.”

I jumped again, a little at ‘sir’. _Was that deliberate_? I could pass pretty well but didn't think I looked ‘that' male. “Call it a change of pace. I moved out here a few years ago, just to the outskirts of the city since living anywhere else here costs and arm and a leg.”

“This _is_ a lovely city, isn't it? Such a beautiful mess of people. Today's an anniversary? Mine has just passed. Uprooting myself and moving up here was kind of a big deal for me too. My demon tends the bar most nights.”

Well, so far, so good. Maybe he was just clueless...and a little strange. “I doubt it was as life changing-” I wish I’d bit my tongue, it’s not good to compare ‘depths of misery’. I put down my drink.

He chuckled. “Well, I did leave Hell. What did you leave behind?”

 _Friends. Family. Work. My asshole boyfriend. Everyone and everything._ “Hell. Maybe we were cellmates.”

“I ran the place. I don't recall seeing you there.”

He meant it light-heartedly if a touch serious. He didn't know what he was talking about. No man that good-looking did. Who knows, maybe he really was flirting with me, but _I didn't see you in Hell_ isn't a great come-on.

I didn't mean to say it, but it came out, seemingly without my say-so. “I looked a lot different. You wouldn't have recognized me.” _None of my so-called-family would recognize me now._

He nodded. “Ah, but I would. Souls have a distinct feel to them, a fingerprint if you will.”

“I’d change those too if I could. All of it.”

Something ancient swept his features and for a half-second I believed he thought he was _Lucifer._ He sipped his drink - straight whiskey by the looks of it. He drained it. “Well, you've made yourself who you are now, haven't you? Discarded what dragged you down, left behind the naysayers, eh?” Some of his shine faded and for some illogical reason, I felt responsible.

The bar guy filled Lucifer’s glass without a word and stepped away again.

“Wish I didn't have to.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I would have left my hometown sooner or later. It wasn’t a great place to be. Not much room for people like me, even skilled ones. I made enough money through online gigs to come out here.”

“What is it you do, Matt?”

He didn’t assume, or at least didn’t ask, if it was online porn work, which was a relief. I began to let my guard down, just a little. “I’m a programmer.”

“Ah, now that’s something I haven’t learned much about, I’m afraid. I’m eagerly looking forward to seeing if it’s truly a great leap forward for humanity or just a fad.”

“It dug me out of my hole, so as far as I’m concerned, it’s a good leap forward. I can work in anonymity if I need to. I like it. I don't always have to use my legal name.” _Especially since I have to work under my birth name and sex for damn near everything, legally._ I have hopes California will let me change it. I carry my original Driver’s License from Kentucky, to prove who I used to be - I have it if I get pulled over since the registration is in my old name. My CA License has my short cropped hair, but my face really hasn’t changed much, yet.

I looked up at him again and noticed his pronounced eyeliner for the first time. Huh. “Did you change yours?”

“Born with it. I could get it _legally_ changed, but any other name would be a misrepresentation of who I am. I rather like being the Devil. Even if I run into _legal_ problems from time to time.” He laughed a little at his own joke.

I snorted. He was ridiculous. Hot, but ridiculous. “Maybe when I legally change my name I should pick something like that.”

“Matt is rather boring, if you want my opinion. At least it’s not _Dan._ He didn’t pick it either, you don’t have that excuse.”

I knew it was boring. “It’s boring on purpose. People don’t look twice at ‘Matt’ on a resume. When they do - well - let’s just say I’m not turning down any additional free drinks right now. Sketchy online jobs usually result in sketchy and inconsistent paychecks.”

“Very well, but no robbing any banks.” he winked like he thought you could do that online.

I laughed, I had to. “Dude, you can’t - I might be able to pretend to be a Nigerian Prince, but that’s as far as I could go. Banks deliberately set traps called ‘honey pots’ to catch people like, well, _me,_ who could try something like that. Those people get caught all the time. I hope I can work for a bank, actually, some of the bigger ones are...more accepting of people like me.”

“My handsome young prince, once you rule the world, I hope you look back on me fondly.” Once again, he smiled like he meant it. I smiled too. His face bore no guile, but I’ve been fooled before. He toasted me with his nearly empty glass. “In fact, you might be aware I dabble in trades. Perhaps you could do me a favor and I'll owe you one.”

I tensed.

“Not that kind of favor, my friend. My WiFi here is absolute garbage and I don’t know what I'm doing, frankly. Is that the kind of thing you could fix up for me?”

I smirked. I _must_ have smirked. The second thing people constantly ask me when I tell them my profession is ‘can you fix my internet’? At least he didn’t bust out a laptop from under the bar - ‘can you fix my computer’ being the first. I shrugged. “Not my field. But don’t you have people you can hire for that?” I _could_ do it, but I don't give away anything for free. A ‘trade' might not cut it.

“You know how you have trouble with your name? So do I. I went years without dealing with it. I prefer patrons dancing to the music instead of bent over their phones, but I’ve had a few bad reviews online about my _internet connection_ here. So I need to take care of it. I suppose I could just _hire_ someone but I prefer to make deals.”

“Dealing with the Devil? Just what kind of favor do I get in return for my soul?”

“Deary, it’s in return for functional internet on the premises, not your _soul._ Why does every bloody person think I want their damn - no pun intended - soul? Don’t answer that. I have connections, should you need them, a service for a service, as it were. Oh, _I’m_ also on the table, as an option.”

I must have had a completely stupid expression on my face, since he asked, “You’re surprised I find you attractive?”

“I think you find me interesting, and that’s not the same thing as attractive.”

He tilted his head again and hummed. “Can’t I find you both?”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “Maybe I don’t find _you_ attractive.”

Lucifer barked a laugh. “Your pheromones say otherwise, darling.”

“My pheromones are kinda fucked up right now. Probably, anyway. What’s attractive about _me_?”

He deliberately looked me up and down hungrily and I blushed hard. He brushed a casual hand against my blue silk dress shirt and the light contact left a stripe of heat on my arm. “If you didn't know, you’re quite stylish - that shirt is designer and recent, well cared for. You have a sharp mind, and I’m rather enjoying talking to you instead of finding other company just yet. I hope to see you more often, as you're easy on the eyes.” He withdrew his touch and I wanted it back. _Easy boy_.

I tried flippant. “As long as I pay the cover charge, right?”

The Devil took another long drink. Either the bartender was serving him apple juice or he had the constitution of God. He smelled like a smoker, so it was hard to tell. “Not so. I have a banned list. I’ve come a long way from when I first opened this place. I can be picky about who _comes and goes_.”

I snorted. Of course, he couldn’t resist a good double entendre. “I’ve come a long way too. I don’t intend to look back either. I take it you aren’t planning on going back to Hell, not with this place doing so well.”

“Never again. Not if I have a say in the matter anyway. How about you and your Hell? Is there no hope of turning it to a paradise? Mine is far too literal for that, but maybe yours isn’t.”

Because of course it was. I sighed. “If my parents… well, they have other kids to look after. I don't need to be their burden, don't _want_ to, since that's what I was. I had always looked up to my older brother. He was the one who told me not to come back. So I’m not going to. My parents didn’t even say that much when they threw me out.”

He paused in responding. “My Father wants naught to do with me, yet I feel Him at my back constantly.”

“It sounds like you can go back someday. Who wouldn’t want you in their lives?”

“Who indeed? No, believe me to be the Devil or not, but I can’t go home. It’s not _home_ anyway.” Lucifer drained his glass again, looking through it. “They couldn't handle it, could they? Your choices?”

I was getting morose. “I shouldn't have had to make them.”

“Really, all Dad had to do was give all beings free will. Then I would never have been booted at all.”

That was not what I was expecting. “What?”

“Choices. You had to make one, your family or your mental well-being.”

It had been a few years, but I was still bitter. “I could have stayed. All I had to do was keep my mouth shut.”

“Amen to that, friend. But we couldn't, could we?”

I didn’t particularly like him trying to throw himself into my boat, but at least he wasn’t trying to row it for me. “I have to be who I was always supposed to be. It wasn't even really a _choice_ . Just a late realization. A devastating one, but I couldn’t _not_ make it. I don't know if I wish I was someone who could have lived life that way.” But I did know. As sure as I knew I was born in the wrong body. Life didn't start me off fair. _But fuck life_.

Lucifer had a momentary flash of concern, then it settled. “My Father didn't approve of me either. Couldn’t please him for trying, not once I made my mind up.”

“If only it were only him, maybe I didn't have to leave.” Softly, I added, “but it was everyone.” I didn’t know why all this was coming out now, I could hold my liquor. I wanted to trust him. I kind of did trust him.

He stood closer to me, but I wasn't sure when he moved. He towered over me but not in a way that was alarming. I was a bit shorter than I would have liked, coming up just over his collarbone; he had a foot on me if he had an inch, but then again, he would be tall as opposed to _most_ people, male, female or somewhere in-between. His gaze softened. “Normally, around this point of a conversation, I ask people what they desire. I'm afraid I already know the answer and I know I can't give that to you. It's not within my powers.”

I swear I heard him wrong on the last word. “Well, thanks for listening, I guess.”

He smiled, and it was full of light. “But, my _prince_ , what I can do for you is offer you myself, freely, not part of a deal, or an exchange of favors, just a lovely evening.” He leaned closer to make his intention clear.

I don't know why I put my hand on his chest to stop him from kissing me - _good_ **_God_ ** _, the man had hard muscle under that vest_ \- but then I did know. Two things: I was no one's fetish. That or he _actually_ didn't know what kind of creature I was. I swallowed another hard lump in my throat. I cursed myself for not being clear, for having to say it, “I'm not what you think.”

His tone was questioning, but his gaze was not, full of intent and promise and I wanted to melt right there, let him win. He touched my shoulder again. “You're not a handsome-”

“Are you really so-”

He huffed, partially giving up. “I'm not _oblivious,_ Matthew. I'm merely attempting to respect your outward representation.”

My voice turned brittle, and it was strained from modulating it. “So you know I'm not equipped for what you're looking for. I'm not comfortable...reverting either. For anyone.”

Lucifer leaned close enough to me to talk lower. “I wouldn't dream of asking you to do anything you aren't comfortable with.”

“I don’t know what I’m comfortable with.” I knew what was _uncomfortable_ with.

“I was thinking perhaps I could kiss you within an inch of your life in a little quiet alcove if you want to stay in public.”

I looked up into very, very dark eyes. “So you aren't just looking to satisfy some vulgar curiosity?”

“The terms come and go, but humans have been assigned the wrong gender or sex at birth for thousands of years and longer. It's only in the last few decades you've made real progress at finding ways to make the process more open, make permanent changes an option. I understand this isn’t the best region for you to exist in, but it’s far from the worst. I also know that’s a cold comfort.”

“I’ll probably never have access to some of those permanent options. It’s unbelievably expensive and rarely covered by insurance.”

His arm was still around me, below my ribs, warm and secure. “You’re who you are. That won’t change. Whatever you’re ‘equipped with’ currently matters not.”

I knew I looked skeptical. I also didn’t pull out away from him. “I'm not the first for you?”

He laughed, and it was music. “My dear prince, not by a long shot. I didn't _invent_ sex but I certainly got inventive with it.” He smiled as he spoke and I heard a truth in those words.

I hoped. A little. Let it in scratching and clawing. “You're, what, bi?”

“Darling, I'm _everything._ Well, everything consensual. That used to sound a lot sexier when I didn't need to clarify it.” His smile was infectious, flirty and sincere all at the same time. His hand came up to lightly touch my jaw, and I swear on my grave I felt ghost stubble on my face under his fingers.

When he leaned in to try to kiss me a second time, I let him.

He tasted like smoke and whiskey and beauty. Him, the owner of the club and self-proclaimed Devil, kissing _me_ in front of God and everyone. I had to remind myself this wasn't a trashy bar in the podunk town I came from. No one was going to swoop in and haul me out on my ass, not in the bar he owned, he reigned in.

No one judged me, least of all him.

I had to remind myself to commit his lips to memory. They were firm, wrapping heat over me, over mine. His lips were wider than mine, but right then, it didn’t feel that way.

For a moment, I was who I should have been all along, a passionate man who liked men, who could have, _would_ have followed him back to his place for a one-night stand, stripped him bare and fucked him senseless. For one glorious and too-short moment, it was all real, all possible.

I was breathing hard, my _heart_ in my throat instead of knots. My hand clutched his waist and his body was _hard_. Gloriously hard. The hand with the ring raked through my short hair, his trimmed nails raising goosebumps and making my spine tingle.

 _If only_.

He looked like he wanted to eat me alive. God, I wanted to throw away every insecurity and let him. I wasn't ready for that. I hated my wrong body and didn't want pleasure, not _that way_ , not with his maleness pressed into the thing I hated. There were others that could have and I wouldn’t judge them for it, but for me... My arm brushed my side and unhelpfully made me think of my binder tight over my chest.

Lucifer bent to my ear. “What kind of sex would you want, were I to ask?” His hand went over my ribs and everywhere he touched, I swear I felt him want _me_. “Upstairs, you can touch me any way you want and I'll enjoy it. Or somewhere quiet down here, where I can touch you with your clothes on?” I breathed sharply. I could keep myself, who I was that way. It could be enough.

I shuddered. No wonder he called himself the Devil. “Down...down here.”

His face lit up like whatever I wanted was the best option out of any possible choice. I swear he purred when he spoke in my ear. “Lovely.”

He hung his jacket on a chair and left it there. He offered his hand, indicating a general direction, letting me lead. My heart raced.

Before melting into shadows, he kissed me again, and I knew it was like none before and would be like none hence. A moan escaped me and he encouraged it. His hands cupped the back of my head before lowering, smoothing down my back and somehow not even disturbing the rough elastic edges of my binder. There was a moment where I wondered if he would go for it, but he left my chest alone, brushing fingers down my waist and passing a questioning grip on my upper ass. I moaned at that too, so he stayed there.

His hard body made a line against me, not fully pressing, just, _there_ , his neck bent to kiss me. His prickly stubble felt good under my fingers, under my lips. The hand touched my hips, my thigh, still questing but not shoving, not grabbing.

I said nothing, enjoying instead his mouth and seeing what he would do. The moment I relaxed, he pulled me against him, arms around me. He was brimming with passion and desire and I wanted to taste more of him. And he _wanted_ me to. His ass was firm under my hands and he smiled into my lips when I let them wander.

The booze on the shelf over the bar had _nothing_ on him for intoxication. 

Normally the thing in my pants was a cold (well, body-warm) dead injection-mold formed object. Blood rushed between my legs and I felt it. Felt him. My hips urged against his and he didn’t flinch a bit. He ran his hands over me multiple times, eagerly. Husky and low, he spoke in my ear, spoke of the things he could do to my ass.

His voice, honey and sweet drifted to my blood-addled brain. He whispered suggestions about him on his knees for me, his lips around me, things that might be used upstairs, desiring to suck me off, taste my cum on his tongue, to feel me in him. The fantasy swirled around my head and became real. His hand gripped the front of my pants and I groaned, feeling it.

He _ground_ into me, pulling my hips into his, and the pressure alone was exactly right. I shuddered there on him, my silicone cock pulsing with life against him, and he grinned on my neck, whispering more filthy, glorious things about my cock, the wet stain it would leave on his sheets when I pulled out.

I found a part of heaven. I held on to it for as long as I could, shamelessly. He was still hard as a rock but requested nothing in return.

I sagged against him as my heaven retreated from my grasp, but I had that much now. I tasted it. It was there. I may never find someone else like him, but then again, maybe I will.

**Author's Note:**

> Less than 1% of all Transgender people will ever be able to get any kind of surgery.


End file.
